As a 51-year-old I’ve had it with the Christian Glitterati obsessed with “success” using ministry as a means to get rich, wear Rolexes and play like they’re Ryan Seacrest. Our world is going to hell and the last thing we need is a preening pastor with a histrionic personality disorder.

Last Thursday evening I had my pastor over to Casa de Giles to enjoy one of my fine cigars with the family and me. During the course of catching up, I found out that several new families from a local South Florida mega-church had left that zoo and had joined our church. The reason why they said they absconded had me gobsmacked – and I’m a hard critter to shock.

Having been in the ministry for twenty-five years, I’ve pretty much heard it all and have seen it all, but I wasn’t ready for this curve ball. This time it wasn’t because the “pastor” was an impenitent adulterer or heretic or because he was going all Rob Ford and stuff down on South Beach or that he was squat-humping altar boys.

No, the reason they fled Babylon was because they found out that their pastor had an elder-approved clothing budget of $60,000 a year built into his financial perks for pastoring. What a dandy. Sounds just like the lowly Nazarene, eh? Five grand a month? Really, dude? Oh, and I almost forgot, he also never wears the same clothes twice when he appears on stage on Sundays. Who does he think he is? Mariah Carey?

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